


No God Before Me

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boyfriend's shirt, Community: spnkink_meme, Crazy Castiel, Drabble, Episode: s07e23 Survival of the Fittest, Fluff, Gen, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean went to SucroCorp to kill Dick. Back at the cabin, Castiel waits for them to come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No God Before Me

 

_Thou shalt not steal._

 

It’s a human commandment. It doesn’t apply to angels. Probably.

And anyway, it’s not stealing, really. He’s going to give it back.

Castiel pulled the shirt on over the white scrubs he’d worn since the hospital. The flannel was worn soft, beginning to fray at the elbows. And it was far too big on him. Sam’s arms were much longer than his.

Sam and Dean were at SucroCorp, looking for the fake Dick Roman. Castiel didn’t want to go. He didn’t fight any more. Things would be so much easier if everyone would stop fighting. Look at the bees. They worked spectacularly as a unit. They produced amazing things and they never, ever triggered the apocalypse.

When Sam came back, he’d want his shirt back. His shirt, and probably a sandwich. When he came back. Because he’d come back. He and Dean would both come back. And they’d probably be beaten and bloody, so they’d want shirts. Clean ones.

Which is why Castiel was wearing the one Sam had worn yesterday.

Because when Sam came back, and wanted a clean shirt, he wouldn’t want this one. So he wouldn’t mind that Castiel had borrowed this one. Borrowed. Not stolen.

He’d give it back.

When Sam came home.

 

_Thou shalt not covet._

Bees didn’t make flannel. The larvae of some moths were capable of making silk, but they didn’t weave it. They didn’t weave it into big, soft shirts that made it seem a little less cold outside.

Monkeys didn’t make flannel, either. They showed remarkable intelligence in that they left the peels on the food they ate, but they didn’t wear clothes. They didn’t have big, soft button ups that smelled like gunpowder and hotel shampoo and _Sam._ Chimpanzees went to war, but they didn’t make flannel.

Castiel fingered the ragged holes of the shirt. Every one of them was something Sam had done. Somewhere he had been. Something that had touched him, and left a mark.

Angels didn’t make flannel. They made monuments, and landmarks, and occasionally a star, but they didn’t make flannel. Angels were good soldiers. They went where they were sent. Usually. They fought on the side of righteousness and light. Usually. But when they died, there was nothing left. Certainly not flannel.

Castiel thinks maybe he’s not a very good angel.

 

_You shall not make idols._

Not a very good angel at all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So after rewatching 7.23, it occurred to me that Castiel knew that Sam and Dean were headed off to fight a small army of Dick Romans. He knew he was the only one who could tell them apart and he let them go anyway. That's some hardcore conflict avoidance, there, especially after he just lost everyone in his garrison. My guess? Denial and insanity.


End file.
